Coming Together
by Helena L
Summary: A prequel to 'Let Your Hair Down', following Revan and Bastila through the slow, painful process of getting to know and understand each other. Begins on Dantooine.
1. Part 1

A/N: I'm baaaaaack!

Ahem. This story begins the night before the party leaves Dantooine, and ends shortly before the first chapter of 'Let Your Hair Down'. I'm now in my final year at university, so I have a lot less time for writing, but I'll try to keep updates fairly regular.As usual, I'd welcome any reviews/comments...

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Part 1**

The two sabers clashed. The blades locked together for a brief moment, scraped apart and clashed again, the movements of each impeccably timed to coincide with that of its opponent. It was a battle of sorts, but there was no passion or ferocity in it; only the fluid, rhythmic interaction of two beings perfectly in tune with the Force. Rather than striving for a decisive advantage, each sought to remain in harmony with the other, maintaining the delicate balance without leaving themselves unguarded and open to attack.

And yet, Jacob was finding it hard to concentrate. Through the blur of yellow light he could see a face, bright-eyed and flushed with exertion, and a lithe, graceful body – somehow more tantalising in modest Jedi robes than in the revealing costume she had worn when he first saw her. He'd felt instinctively that it was wrong; she shouldn't be forced into a cheap, tacky outfit designed only to show as much flesh as possible, alluring as it might be. In her own clothes she was truly herself, and more beautiful for it.

"You're not concentrating, Jacob." She spoke sharply, swiping his blade aside with a force that knocked him straight out of his fleeting daydream. "If I'd wanted to hit you, I could have done it three times over by now."

"Sorry." He de-ignited his saber and mopped his brow with his sleeve, flashing her a rather guilty smile. "I was getting a little... distracted."

Bastila raised her eyebrows, shooting him a distinctly sardonic glance. "If what you see here is so 'distracting', perhaps you ought to close your eyes."

"I'm only human, Bastila," he protested.

"You should not allow your concentration to slip during a duel!" A familiar note of irritation was creeping into her voice, and he braced himself for the inevitable lecture. "You know, there are attractive women in the Sith army as well. What will you do if you find yourself fighting one of them?"

He couldn't resist. "Easy enough... I'll just think of you instead."

The look of sheer exasperation on her face would have been highly gratifying if he hadn't felt her sudden anger. "By the Force, you can be impossible sometimes!" There was no amusement in her voice this time, only a sense of exhaustion and barely-suppressed rage. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying, when you clearly never listen to a word I say. If you're determined not to take your training seriously – "

"Bastila." He clapped a hand on her shoulder, and sensed her heart jump at the unexpected physical contact. "Bastila, it was just a joke. Will you lighten up a little?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Bastila wrenched herself away from his grasp and stepped back, her face cold and angry. "A joke?" she said through clenched teeth. "Of course. Everything is a joke to you, isn't it? Every time I try to give you any kind of advice, you simply make a jest out of it and carry on as you were before."

"That's not fair." Now Jacob's own patience was wearing thin. "Listen, up until a couple of months ago I was scraping out a living as a smuggler in the Outer Rim. I'd never even met a Jedi before I joined the Republic fleet, and now I'm expected to throw away my whole life and devote myself to the Order. I've done my best to adjust, but you never give me any sort of a break – "

"But I'm trying to help you," she insisted. "I'm trying to prepare you for what you'll face during our mission. Can't you understand that?"

Jacob sighed. "I know, I know. But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it?" She began to protest, but he interrupted her. "You and Vrook Lamar... you seem to have decided the second we met that I'm doomed to fall to the Dark Side. What kind of chance do I have when you've already made up your minds?"

Bastila sagged a little and lowered her eyes, her anger dissolving as suddenly and rapidly as it had appeared. "I wish I could make you understand," she said miserably, and the sudden weariness in her voice cost him a twinge of guilt. Unwilling to push her any further, he chose not to reply.

Abruptly she raised her head and swept back the loose strands of hair from her face. "Perhaps we should stop here," she said shortly. "I need to pack for the journey. If you need any more saber practice, I suggest you ask Juhani." Her eyes narrowed. "If you feel you're able to refrain from ogling her."

Jacob bit down his annoyance at the unnecessary jibe. "Getting jealous, are we?" he enquired coolly, with a smile deliberately calculated to infuriate. "Well, don't worry, sweetheart. I promise I won't go 'ogling' other women behind your back."

She rolled her eyes and turned away without a word. Jacob followed a short way behind her as she marched off, pleased at having scored a point over her, yet feeling an odd sense of dissatisfaction. He could never triumph over her for long; the truth was that despite how much she annoyed him at times, he would have much preferred her to like him.

He wondered vaguely whether he should be taking a different approach to their relationship. Teasing her and flirting with her had been good fun for a while, but it certainly wasn't having the desired effect; rather than loosening her up, it only seemed to make her ever more uptight and frustrated. Maybe it was time to try another tack.

He was still musing on this when she suddenly stopped and turned round sharply to face him. "Is there any particular reason why you're following me?" she asked, with undisguised impatience.

Jacob hastily pulled himself together. He had actually wandered off after her without really thinking about it, but something told him this answer would leave her distinctly unimpressed. "I thought I'd like to see where you live," he replied, with as careless an air as possible.

She gave him a very strange look. "I see," she said at last. "Well, I suppose it can't do any harm."

Without another word she turned and strode off, allowing him to fall in beside her. They walked on together through the maze of corridors, until she finally stopped in front of one of the many identical doors and inserted her keycard. It slid noiselessly aside, revealing a single bedroom very similar to Jacob's own.

"My room," she announced, without ceremony. "Please, feel free to inspect it as you wish."

He chose to ignore the edge of sarcasm in her voice, concentrating instead on the décor of the room – or rather, the lack of it. The small bedroom contained only plain, basic furniture and a metal trunk by the side of the bed – no pictures, posters, ornaments or anything else that might hint at its occupant's personality. "Have you lived here since you were a child?" he asked, incredulous.

"On and off," she said vaguely, kneeling down by the bed. "Of course, recently I've spent most of my time on starships."

She dragged a suitcase out from under the bed and flung back the lid of her trunk. Curious, Jacob looked over her shoulder to see what it contained: a couple of holocrons, a pile of old books, and... "A doll?"

Her expression softened a little. "Lorella," she said quietly, lifting the doll out of the trunk and carefully smoothing down its hair. "My father bought her for me, not long before I joined the Jedi. I wasn't allowed to take many things with me, so I chose her." She stroked Lorella's face with nostalgic tenderness. "I could never quite bring myself to throw her away."

A faint grin spread over Jacob's face. "Yeah, I used to have this stuffed bantha toy when I was a kid. Boba the Bantha. And you know what?"

"What?"

"He had a face exactly like Master Vrook's. Seriously, every time I see the guy, I have to stop myself from calling him 'Boba'."

Their eyes met for a second, and he saw her struggling vainly to hide her amusement; finally, with a slightly guilty look, she caved in and allowed herself a reluctant smile. All at once the atmosphere in the room seemed markedly more relaxed; it was almost as if they could both breathe freely for the first time. Jacob sat down on the bed and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

"So were you and your father close?" he asked, keen to prolong this unusual but welcome sense of intimacy.

"Oh, yes." She looked up at him eagerly, and he was astonished at the sudden change in her expression; her eyes shone and her face was flooded with warmth. "I loved him. He was kind and gentle, and doted on me." She shook her head, smiling slightly at the remembrance; then the bright glow dimmed a little. "My mother, however..."

"You didn't get on with her?"

The warm light in her eyes immediately faded, leaving them dull and expressionless. "No, I didn't," she said shortly. "I was only a little girl when I left, but I was old enough to resent her and the way she treated my father. She pushed him into treasure hunting and whittled away his entire fortune." She paused briefly, glancing down at her hands. "I think she was relieved to give me away to the Jedi... but my father was heartbroken."

Jacob sensed her reluctance to discuss the subject, and wondered how to change it. "I wish I could remember anything at all about my parents," he said honestly. "Do you still see your father sometimes?"

She looked up at him with a rather sad smile. "No," she said softly. "I haven't seen either of my parents since I joined the Order."

"What, not at all?" Jacob couldn't hide his astonishment. "Why not?"

She hesitated for a moment before replying. "The gift of the Force comes with a high cost," she explained at last. "Sacrifice of one's emotional attachments is one of the prices a Jedi must be willing to pay. The alternative is to fall prey to the dark side."

He frowned, still not fully comprehending her. "Are you saying you're not allowed to love anyone?"

"Emotional entanglements can be dangerous," she stated, her voice curiously lacking in expression. "They can impair rational thought; they can lead to outbursts of uncontrolled emotion. A Jedi must be above such things; do you not understand?"

"Yes, but... even love?" Jacob shook his head. "It seems a little over the top."

Rather than getting defensive, as he had half expected, Bastila merely sighed. "Even love can lead to folly," she remarked, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of sadness dart across her face. "I hope you will come to understand this once you've spent more time in the Order."

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You don't sound too convinced yourself, come to that."

"Even a Jedi cannot always control the feelings of the heart," she said quietly. "We must do our best to guard against it. But... some sacrifices are harder than others."

Jacob nodded silently and lay back against the wall, thinking about what she had just said. In a way he could understand her reasoning, and he realised she must know more about the Force than he did – but there was another part of him which revolted against the very idea of living in this way. He supposed that it must be easier for normal Jedi, brought up to a life of self-denial and sacrifice, and yet...

"Are you happy in the Jedi, Bastila?" he asked suddenly.

She looked up sharply, pausing in the act of folding a nightgown. "What sort of a question is that?"

He shrugged. "A fairly simple one, I would have thought."

Bastila pursed her lips and frowned, clearly none too pleased by the question. "I am as happy as can be expected, under the circumstances," she said coldly, and turned her attention back to her packing.

"So that's a 'no', in other words."

She threw him a glance of profound irritation, and he felt an abrupt weakening in their bond as she drew up the guard she had briefly let slip. "This is not an easy time to be a Jedi, Jacob," she observed, her face suddenly taut and guarded. "None of us can afford to relax until Malak is defeated. After the war there may be time to think about happiness."

"And what would make you happy?" he asked gently.

She hesitated, thinking the question over. "Peace," she replied at last. "Peace, and safety... and being with people I know I can trust. That's all I need in my life."

"Doesn't sound like much of a life to me." He hadn't meant it to sound disparaging, but Bastila immediately took it as such, and bristled at the perceived affront.

"What right have you to judge?" she said angrily. "You know nothing about me, apart from what I've just told you. How I choose to live my life is none of your concern."

"Sorry I asked." He wished he hadn't, but it was too late; the brief rapport between them was shattered. He sighed and got slowly to his feet, casting a glance through the window to the lengthening shadows in the courtyard.

"It's getting late. I'd better be going." He walked over to the door and then hesitated for a moment, turning back to face her. "Goodnight, Bastila."

"Goodnight," she said distantly, as the door slid shut behind him.

Jacob set off for his own room, shaking his head. Women! He'd sussed out Carth and Canderous easily enough, and Mission – well, she was just a kid – but the longer he knew Bastila, the less he felt he really understood about her. Trying to have a conversation with her was like wading through a deep, muddy stream; you'd be making steady progress, and then the bottom would suddenly drop out beneath you and leave you floundering.

And yet, for reasons he himself wasn't entirely clear about, he kept on going back for more. He'd never really had to pursue a woman before, but Bastila was different; she seemed immune to his usual tactics, and somehow he found that strangely attractive. There was something rather enticing about the idea of breaking through her defences, especially now that he'd seen glimpses of warmth and affection behind the icy façade she so resolutely projected.

If he couldn't get her to admit her feelings for him, he could at least prove to her that her doubts were misplaced; that he was as capable of anyone of living up to the Jedi ideal. A fresh zeal and determination bubbled up inside him at the thought of what lay ahead: for the first time in his life, he had the chance to do something that could make a real difference. Just as long as he managed to avoid screwing it up...

-----

Jedi had few personal possessions, and the packing was soon finished. Bastila closed her suitcase and flopped down wearily on the bed, wondering why almost every discussion she had with Jacob seemed to end up in an argument. His flippant attitude and constant teasing grated on her nerves to the point where she found it hard to control her temper – and it didn't help that the very sight of him stirred long-dormant feelings inside her, feelings she had once believed to have conquered entirely. Feelings that she knew she must avoid, at all costs...

It was all very well for him to dismiss the Code as 'over the top', with his even temper and naturally easygoing nature. For her it was a lifeline, a solid anchor to cling to in a life filled with constant danger and uncertainty. The simple words brought her comfort and peace in a way nothing else could, and she strove to follow them to the best of her ability. She'd been proud of her progress over the last few years, believing herself to be finally getting the better of her turbulent emotions – and now he'd arrived, and everything threatened to fall apart again.

But she couldn't back out now; she'd agreed to this mission and she had to follow through with it, no matter how difficult and frustrating it might be. She couldn't afford to fail, because the consequences of failure were too dire to imagine.

She sank her head back into the pillow, muttering the words over and over again as she closed her eyes. Gradually she felt the familiar, soothing mantra begin to take effect, the tension slowly ebbing from her muscles as her mind grew more tranquil. _There is no passion, there is serenity... There is no chaos, there is harmony... There is no emotion, there is peace..._

_----- _

The next morning, as he dressed himself in preparation for the journey, Jacob felt rather less confident than he had the previous night. The sheer scale of the task ahead was only just beginning to sink in: he, Jacob Sora, thirty-year-old ex-smuggler from the distant reaches of the Outer Rim, now held the fate of the entire Republic in his hands. It seemed ludicrous, insane; he just couldn't get his head around it properly. Maybe Bastila had a point after all...

Still, despite his concerns, he couldn't help feeling a tinge of excitement and anticipation. Dantooine was a pleasant enough place for a rest, but it was rapidly losing its charms; he wanted to get out there again into the thick of the action. Most of the others seemed to be feeling the same way, particularly Canderous.

"If I spend another day on this planet," he had growled the day before, "I'm going to flip out and start shooting the place up." Carth, for once in his life, seemed inclined to agree.

Bastila didn't appear to share their enthusiasm, which Jacob could understand; this was, after all, her home. He saw her looking around rather wistfully as they walked through the halls of the Enclave, and once he thought he sensed her shiver a little. "Is something wrong?" he asked, in a voice too low for the others to hear.

She hesitated. "No, not really. Just... a feeling."

"A feeling?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, more firmly this time. "Forget about it."

Their final meeting with the Council was brief and sombre. The Masters wished them luck and tried to sound hopeful, but the anxiety in their faces was plain to see. Vrook in particular seemed to be in a bad mood, even by his normal standards.

"Try not to fail us in this, Padawan," he said grumpily. "As much as I may wish it otherwise, you are our only hope."

"Of course, Master Bo- er, Master Vrook." Jacob heard a strangled choking sound from the young woman beside him, which she hastily turned into a cough. Vrook shot them both a deeply suspicious glance before turning away.

Bastila soon managed to compose herself, and shot Jacob a stern glance as they walked off together. He smiled rather guiltily and turned to look at Juhani, whom he had barely spoken to as yet. She gave him a timid smile, but said nothing.

They found the others waiting for them outside the _Hawk_, and Jacob took the opportunity to introduce Juhani to the rest of the crew. "Everyone, this is Juhani," he announced. "Juhani, this is Canderous Or-" He stopped when he saw the expression on her face; she was staring at the Mandalorian as if he were a particularly disgusting rodent.

"Hi," said Canderous, without enthusiasm. The young Jedi continued to gape at him; finally her lips moved in what might have been a greeting, but no sound came out.

Jacob wondered what the problem could be, but there was no time to investigate at present. He turned to Carth, who was scuffing the toe of his boot against the ground in a slightly moody fashion. "You've been very quiet lately, Carth," he remarked.

"Have I?" Carth shrugged. "I suppose I have. I guess I just don't like being left out of the loop."

"Left out of the loop?"

"Yes, 'left out of the loop'. You know... not being told anything? Strung along?" He sounded unexpectedly annoyed. "It's really starting to irritate me."

Jacob regarded his friend with some surprise. "Well, what do you want to know?"

Carth straightened up and looked directly at him for the first time, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, for one thing, I want to know what the Jedi Council said to you. They pulled you in there and refused to tell me a thing about it." He gestured in the direction of the Council chamber. "Like this mission, for instance. I mean, you were a great help on Taris, but why would they keep you with us? Don't they... don't they have to train you?"

"My training is finished."

Carth let out a short, incredulous guffaw. "What, finished? You're kidding. After four weeks?"

Without looking round, Jacob threw out a hand towards a nearby fountain and snapped his fingers. Carth watched grimly as a small stone flew out of the water and straight into Jacob's outstretched palm. "Yeah, very impressive," he said sarcastically. "I may not know much about the Jedi, but I get the feeling there's more to the training than party tricks like that. And I also know they aren't famous for taking on old Padawans and sending them on dangerous assignments. _Why_ are they sending you with us, exactly?"

Jacob sighed, realising that his friend wasn't going to let this go without an answer. "If you must know, they said there's a bond between me and Bastila."

"A bond?" The older man snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of bond?"

Bastila, who had been listening with mounting astonishment and irritation, cut in angrily. "That is none of your concern, Carth, and you would do well to leave the matter be."

Carth spun round. "I respect you, Bastila, but you've been as close-mouthed as the rest of the Council. If you won't talk to me, then maybe somebody else will!" He was clearly on the verge of losing his temper altogether. Jacob had no idea what could have prompted this sudden attack of paranoia, but he realised that he needed to calm things down before this got out of control.

"Carth." He stepped forward, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible. "Maybe we ought to discuss this in private?"

Carth seemed about to say something, but then he met Jacob's eyes and seemed to think better of it. He clamped his mouth shut and slowly nodded, his face still hard with anger. The others watched with raised eyebrows as the two men turned and walked up the ramp into the _Hawk_, both of them looking grim and tense.

Once inside the ship, Jacob immediately rounded on his crewmate. "OK, Carth, what the hell is all this about?"

"I already told you what it's about," Carth shot back. "The Jedi refusing to say what's _really_ going on here. I mean, just look at you – you're a neophyte Padawan who's been saddled with tracking down these Star Maps. Why? Why aren't they keeping you here for training?"

"Could it be that they thought finding the Star Maps was slightly more important?"

Carth snorted again. "So why not send someone else? No, I'm telling you there's more to it than this. They're keeping something from us."

"Well, even if they are, what's that got to do with me?" Suddenly it hit him. "Hang on... that's it, isn't it? Now that I'm a Jedi, you think I can't be trusted. I've become one of the Enemy as far as you're concerned."

The pilot said nothing, leading Jacob to suspect that he'd struck pretty close to the mark. He sighed in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. "All right, I'll tell you exactly what they told me. Somehow – I can't say how – I've formed a bond with Bastila which allows us to share visions. That's how we found the Star Map here in the first place."

Carth looked distinctly skeptical. "You mean to say they told you were 'tied' to her in some way? Is this more of that destiny garbage that the Jedi keep talking about?" He shook his head in disgust. "I don't believe any of this. How could this 'bond' have been created?"

"How am I to know?" Jacob retorted. "As you just said yourself, I've only been a Jedi for four weeks. I don't understand this any better than you do. If you think I've been initiated into some sort of massive Jedi conspiracy, think again!"

"Oh no?" The pilot took a step forward, almost shaking with anger and resentment. "Well, I'll tell you this: I'm not going to wait around until I'm betrayed again!"

"Oh, for Force's sake!" Jacob knew that Carth's experiences had left him paranoid and mistrustful, but this was unbelievable. He leaned forward and grabbed the other man by the shoulders, trying to suppress the urge to give him a good shaking. "Listen to me, Carth: I'm on your side. I am _not_ going to betray you, all right? _I. Am. Not. Saul_!"

He almost spat out the last few words before releasing his grip on Carth and stepping back, lowering clenched fists to his sides. The Republic soldier scowled back at him, bitterness and distrust written clearly across his face. "Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?" he growled.

At that moment it took all Jacob's self-control not to shoot out a fist and punch his lights out. Instead, he took a deep breath and waited until he could trust himself to speak again. "All right, Carth," he said at last. "If you're determined to think I'm a Sith, go ahead. Maybe we can talk again when you've taken your medication."

He stomped off into the central section and flung himself down into a chair, unwilling to face the others again until he'd calmed down a bit. Sithspit! What the hell was wrong with everyone lately? He'd never thought of himself as a particularly irritable person, but there were times when his companions' behaviour would test the patience of a saint.

_If I do end up as a Sith Lord_, he thought sourly, _it won't be my fault_. Between Bastila's lectures, Carth's rabid paranoia and Canderous's incessant yakking about his glorious warrior past, it was enough to turn anyone to the Dark Side.


	2. Part 2

A/N: Sorry about the delay in updating. Essay crisis, Civilization 4 released, computer blew up, etc...

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It was late in the evening, and all was quiet on board the _Hawk_. The journey to Tatooine was almost complete; it had proceeded fairly smoothly and, thus far, been relatively peaceful. Even Carth and Bastila had managed to keep their usual bickering to a minimum, for which Jacob was exceedingly grateful. 

The crewmembers – with the exception of Bastila, who was in her cabin – were gathered in the central section of the ship, engaged in various solitary activities. Juhani was reading a book, Carth was poring over a datapad, and Mission had wheedled Canderous into giving her a game of Pazaak, while Zaalbar looked on silently. Jacob sat alone in a corner, letting the quiet voices drift over him and thinking over the events of the last few days.

He hadn't said much to Carth since the row they'd had on Dantooine. The pilot had been unusually subdued after that morning, and Jacob suspected that he was probably feeling rather ashamed of himself. Fortunately he had had to spend most of his time flying the ship, giving them a good excuse to avoid each other until they had both cooled off.

Juhani, too, had said very little to anyone as yet. Jacob couldn't work out whether she was simply very shy, or still badly affected by her failure to resist the Dark Side, or both. At one point he'd tactfully enquired whether she wanted to talk, but she only shook her head.

"I thank you for your concern," she said with a sigh, "but I am still a bit shaken. I have been thinking about my fall to the Dark Side, about Quatra..."

"She is going to be OK, isn't she?"

The young woman nodded. "Yes, I believe so. But the anger that drove me that far... I look inside myself and I can still feel it. It frightens me."

"Maybe you just need more time," he suggested. "To get it out of your system."

She nodded again. "More time would do me good. I think that may be why the Council agreed to send me with you."

"Well, if I think I see you slipping back, I'll let you know." He spoke jestingly, but they both knew that he meant what he said.

"I thank you for your kindness, Padawan," she said, with a grateful smile. "I will strive to prove myself worthy of your trust."

If anyone could draw her out of her shell, he had thought it would be Bastila; after all, they were both Jedi and roughly the same age. But for reasons Jacob couldn't fathom, Juhani seemed to have taken an instant dislike to the other woman; her mild overtures of friendship had been met with a distinct coldness, bordering on unfriendliness or even outright hostility. Being Bastila, she had instantly sensed this and responded in kind, becoming as cold and distant towards Juhani as she was towards everyone else.

He was still pondering over this when Mission's voice piped up excitedly: "I win!" The others looked up in amusement as she jumped out of her seat and clasped her hands above her head in triumph. It was good to see her back to her normal, cheerful self, thought Jacob; her time spent with the Jedi must have done her some good.

Canderous didn't look too pleased at being beaten by a fourteen-year-old girl, but even he couldn't hide a trace of rather grudging amusement. "You're too sharp for your own good, you little street rat," he muttered, shaking his head.

Mission shrugged, not in the least concerned. "I've beaten everyone on the ship now," she announced with satisfaction, and then her face fell a little. "Except Bastila, of course."

"Why do you not ask her to play?" enquired Juhani, speaking up for the first time.

"Are you kidding?" Mission rolled her eyes. "I'll never get her to play. She probably thinks it's against the Jedi Code or something."

"You could always try asking," Jacob observed quietly, from over in the corner.

The young girl screwed up her face. "Maybe. But if she starts talking about the Dark Side, I'm outta here." She frowned deeply, pressed her lips together and spoke in a passable imitation of Master Vrook's deep, gravelly voice. " 'Beware of anger and hatred, young one. Such things lead to the Dark Side.' That's all I've been hearing for the past month."

The others laughed, astonished by how accurately she managed to imitate the middle-aged Jedi Master. "I didn't know you could do impersonations, Mission," said Jacob, greatly amused.

"Don't encourage her," warned Zaalbar. "Once you get her going, she'll never stop."

He was right. Thrilled with the attention she was getting, Mission switched to imitating Zaalbar himself, provoking more laughter. She even made a stab at Carth, who couldn't help responding with a smile – a rather weak one, but the first that Jacob had seen from him in days.

"Do the Princess," said Canderous suddenly, and Mission's eyes lit up. Immediately she slipped into the low, well-modulated tones of the young Jedi, her face taking on the somewhat haughty expression that Bastila invariably adopted when someone annoyed her.

"I am _not_ 'stuck up'," she intoned, perfectly imitating Bastila's air of frosty superiority. "I merely have the years of training to give me the wisdom and understanding to see how childish such an act would be."

Jacob had to suppress a snort of laughter. Though he felt a twinge of discomfort at making fun of Bastila during her absence, he couldn't deny that Mission's imitation of her was all too accurate. Delighted by her reception, the young Twi'lek continued her 'Jedi Princess' impression: "I am a member of the Jedi Order and this is _my_ mission. Don't forget that!"

The sounds of their laughter filtered through to Bastila as she lay reading in the cabin, and a faint, wistful ache began to grow inside her at the thought of the joke she couldn't share. She was well aware that her social skills left a lot to be desired, and the circumstances she found herself in – thrown together with people she didn't know, like or even trust, and who disliked and distrusted her in return – made an already difficult situation almost intolerable for her. She found it easiest to simply avoid the others as much as possible; that way she could escape both the inevitable clash of wills, and the more insidious danger of growing too close to any of them.

But was this any way for a leader to act? It seemed impolite, not to mention cowardly, to behave as if she couldn't bear to be in their presence. A touch of guilt mingled with the sudden pang of loneliness; perhaps she ought to be making more of an effort. She was, after all, a Jedi...

Back in the central section, Mission was just getting into her stride. She had run out of genuine quotes and begun to improvise, getting more over-the-top with every passing moment, yet still capturing Bastila's voice and mannerisms almost to perfection. By now the others were practically falling about with laughter; even Juhani, who tried her best to look disapproving, was clearly struggling to conceal her amusement.

It was Jacob who first sensed that something was wrong. He didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching the door, but he felt the sudden jolt of horror through his bond with Bastila – and immediately, without even needing to look around, he knew what had happened. "Mission," he said quietly.

The young girl, still in full flow, saw his expression and abruptly stopped. Six pairs of eyes swivelled towards the doorway, where Bastila stood open-mouthed and seemingly rooted to the spot. Her face, chalk-white from the initial shock, was rapidly flushing a deep and livid shade of red.

She moved her lips as if to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Jacob, the first to recover his presence of mind, leapt up from his seat. "Bastila – " But it was too late; the young woman had turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving a circle of rather guilty faces behind her.

"Oops." Mission's cheeks had turned slightly pink. "Guess I got a little carried away."

Almost instinctively, everyone's eyes turned towards Jacob. He saw the pleading look in Mission's face, and stood up with a sigh of resignation. "I'll go and talk to her, shall I?"

-----

Bastila flung herself face-down on her bunk, utterly humiliated and almost shaking with suppressed rage. To think that she had chided herself for being unfriendly to them! She had hardly been expecting a joyful welcome from her crewmates, but finding herself treated with such undisguised contempt and derision cut straight to her heart.

What could she possibly have done to earn this from them? They were no better than a bunch of vicious schoolchildren, always needing some victim to gang up on. Not that she'd expected anything more from Mission or Canderous, but Jacob... She ground her teeth as she thought of how he'd pretended to take her seriously, asking her about her family and background, only to mock her and ridicule her behind her back. So much for his feigned 'interest' in her, she thought angrily; she wouldn't fall for that one again.

As if on cue, she heard footsteps approaching the cabin door and sensed him enter the room. He walked cautiously up to the bunk, bent over her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Bastila?"

She flinched at his touch as if it burned her, and he withdrew his hand instantly. "Bastila," he said softly. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

Furious as she was, Bastila was determined not to let him see how much his apparent betrayal had affected her. With an effort, she composed her features into a relatively neutral expression and rolled over onto her side, raising herself up onto her elbow. "Yes?" she asked coolly, fixing him with a look of chilly indifference.

"Listen." He sat down next to her on the bed, his sudden closeness making her feel strangely trapped. "I'm sorry about what happened back there, but it wasn't what you thought. Mission was doing impressions of all of us, not just you."

She tossed her head disdainfully, as if to imply that she found the whole thing ridiculous. "What in the world makes you think I care?"

"What, apart from the fact that you're obviously hurt and upset?" Already she could sense him losing patience with her, but she was too angry and mortified to care.

"You're mistaken, Jacob." Her voice was the perfect blend of quiet scorn and icy dignity. "How you choose to amuse yourselves is of no concern whatsoever to me. I have better things to do with my time."

"Like lying around and feeling sorry for yourself?" When she failed to reply, he slapped a hand against the covers in frustration. "Fine," he said curtly, standing up to leave. "I'll leave you to it then, shall I? Forgive me for trying to apologise; I'll know better next time."

Bastila ground her teeth as she heard his footsteps retreat down the corridor, more incensed at him than ever. How dare he come in here and try to fob her off with some pathetic excuse? Did he think her a complete imbecile? In her rage and indignation, it didn't even occur to her that had she thought to try, she could very easily have determined whether or not he was telling the truth.

She knew he must be able to sense how angry she was, but she certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her admit it. Let him suspect what he liked! She rolled back onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, determined to block out all thoughts of what had just occurred. _There is no emotion there is peace, there is no emotion there is peace..._

The others looked up as Jacob returned, and his posture and expression left them in no doubt about what had happened. "No luck?" enquired Carth sympathetically.

"None." Jacob sank back into his chair with a sigh. "Maybe I'll try again later once she's cooled off a little."

Canderous looked at him in disbelief. "Why bother? If she wants to sulk, let her."

Jacob couldn't work up the energy to reply. In truth, he wasn't sure himself why he cared so much. He knew very well that Bastila was behaving unreasonably – and yet he couldn't avoid the sneaking feeling that he had hurt her badly, and that in a way she had every right to be angry with him. Jedi or not, she was only human, and no one would have reacted well to what she thought she had seen.

He was annoyed at himself for encouraging Mission's antics, and even more annoyed that Bastila hadn't wanted to listen to his explanation. He had no idea why it mattered so much to him, but rightly or wrongly, it did.

-----

That night, as they approached Tatooine, Jacob's restless sleep was disturbed by a vision similar to the one he had seen on Dantooine. He found himself in some kind of cave, dark and cramped, the sand-strewn floor littered with vaguely skeletal shapes that sent a chill down his spine as he looked at them. At its centre was the metal base of another Star Map, weirdly out of place amongst the rocks and sand. The ancient machinery whirred into life as he watched, opening up to reveal the holographic map that glowed eerily in the darkness...

He woke abruptly to find daylight filtering in through the blinds; they must have landed on Tatooine. Almost immediately the memory of last night's events returned to him and he groaned, dreading the prospect of finding Bastila in a bad mood. He could only hope that she had calmed down overnight and begun to see sense at last.

He needn't have worried. As it happened, Bastila was already beginning to regret her actions of the night before. The vision she had shared with Jacob reminded her of the massive task they faced, and their petty quarrels seemed utterly trivial in comparison – particularly as she realised that Jacob had probably been telling her the truth.

Back then, her anger and resentment had blinded her to anything except a sense of wounded innocence. Now, in the cold light of day, her own behaviour seemed childish and petulant. What she _should_ have done, she realised, was to laugh it off and act as if nothing had happened – that way her dignity would have remained intact, and any embarrassment would be left to their part. But of course, it was always easy to see this sort of thing in retrospect...

The best course of action, she decided, would be to forget about it and never mention the occurrence again. Accordingly, she said a polite 'good morning' to Mission and Juhani – both of whom looked ever so slightly relieved – and went about her usual routine with as businesslike an air as possible. The minute she ran into Jacob she began to speak, determined to pre-empt any discussion of the previous night's events.

"The Force has given us a vision," she said quietly. "Like the one we shared on Dantooine. Did you see it?" She went on before he had a chance to speak. "Of course... you must have. The Force is strong with us both."

Jacob noticed the meaningful look in her eyes, and she felt his relief as he realised that this was her way of declaring a truce. He nodded and gave her a faint smile, clearly to convey that he understood. "It seemed to be in some kind of cave," he remarked, in the same deliberately neutral tone. "Do you know of anything like that around here?"

She shook her head. "Tatooine is known for little but blowing sand. I find it surprising that there should be a Star Map here."

"Maybe it wasn't always a desert?" he suggested. "If it's been here for tens of thousands of years..."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, perhaps. There could be many such caves and caverns hidden throughout the Dune Sea."

"So we have to search the entire planet?" They looked at each other, aghast. "I can't believe Revan and Malak did that. There has to be a better way."

There had to be, but she certainly couldn't immediately think of one. "I suppose there must be," she said eventually. "All we can hope is that the Force will lead us to it."

"Well, it hasn't failed us yet, has it?"

He smiled down at her, his dark eyes twinkling, and somehow she found herself smiling back. There was something infectious about his optimism, something which reverberated inside her and filled her with a sudden rush of warmth. No wonder he found it so easy to get on with people, whereas she always seemed to end up driving them away... She felt more guilty than ever about losing her temper with him, and immediately resolved to try and be more relaxed in future.

Her resolve, unfortunately, did not last long. As Jacob headed for the cockpit to speak with Carth, Bastila turned around and saw Canderous standing in the doorway; he had clearly been observing their conversation for some time. "So, Princess," he began, with a leer she found particularly offensive. "What's he got that I haven't?"

"Good looks, charm and a sense of morality," she replied coolly.

"And a big lightsaber, I suppose." His voice dripped with suggestion. Bastila was on the point of responding with a biting rebuke, when a better idea occurred to her.

"Yes, Canderous," she said calmly, with a tight little smile. "That's certainly another thing you haven't got."

Canderous let out a faint snort and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Ooh, bitchy," he murmured, and then his eyes lit up as he saw Jacob returning from the cockpit. "Hey, Jacob! Bastila was just telling me how good-looking she thinks you are."

The Jedi glanced at her in disbelief, and she felt the blood rushing to her face once more. "I was _not_ – oh, for Force's sake!" She turned and stormed out of the room, Jedi serenity and composure completely forgotten. The Mandalorian rolled his eyes as Jacob hurried off after her, pausing only to throw a stern glance in his direction.

Jacob caught up with her near her cabin and grasped her by the arm. "Bastila." She attempted to shake him off, but he pulled her around to face him. "Why do you let him get to you like that?" he asked, exasperated.

She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. "I don't know," she said at last. "I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. Everything he says disgusts me."

"Yes, and he knows it." Jacob shook his head in frustration. "You're playing into his hands, Bastila!"

"I know," she said again, with a weary sigh. "I'm sorry. I realise I've been a little overwrought, lately..." Though she wasn't about to say it, they both knew what she was referring to.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said softly. "Really." She nodded, and he gave her arm a gentle squeeze; then, just as she was about to turn away, she saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly. "Oh, and just for the record: I think you're gorgeous."

He was rewarded by seeing her blush to the roots of her hair.

-----

The first thing that hit them as they stepped out of the ship was a fierce light, so bright after the semi-darkness of the ship that it was almost blinding. The second was a blast of heat that practically knocked them backwards. "Is it always as hot as this?" gasped Mission, trying to shield her eyes from the blazing sun.

"Two suns, remember?" murmured Carth.

Jacob nodded. "Better get used to it," he said, with a mirthless smile. "It's not even midday yet." Zaalbar, whose thick, shaggy fur was already heating his body to uncomfortable temperatures, let out a faint groan.

A uniformed Czerka official hurried up to them as they walked down the ramp. "Welcome to Anchorhead, potential customers!" he exclaimed, fixing them with a smile as large and wide as it was obviously fake. "Czerka Corporation stands ready to serve... after some formalities, of course."

"What kind of formalities?" Jacob asked warily.

"Well, for a start, your ship is not on our list of planned arrivals for today," explained the man. "There is a docking fee of 100 credits because of this."

Carth let out a whistle. "100 credits just for docking our ship? Why don't you just get us to empty out our wallets right here?"

The man's smile faded into a slight frown. "We have to recoup our costs somehow," he said tersely. "And I assure you that the fee is non-negotiable. We have a very thin margin of profit on this world."

"Mining not going well?" enquired Jacob innocently.

The man shifted uncomfortably, and Jacob guessed that he had hit a nerve. "I can't get into that, I'm afraid," he murmured. "Official Czerka business. Now, if you could just hand over the fee..."

"We don't need to pay, I think," stated the Jedi, his voice pleasant but firm. "We can spend the money in your stores instead." He made a brief gesture towards the Czerka rep with his right hand, and a slightly glazed look came over the man's eyes.

"I guess you don't need to pay," he agreed. "You can spend the money in our stores instead. Ask at our office if you need anything."

He walked off towards the gates, leaving the others staring open-mouthed at Jacob. The other Jedi looked shocked, and Carth slightly uncomfortable, but Mission's eyes were dancing with glee. "Wow," she murmured, shaking her head. "I can be pretty convincing when I have to be, but that mind-trick is something else!"

Bastila, however, was fuming. She glared furiously at Jacob, and he realised with a sinking heart that he had just squandered all the goodwill he'd earned from her earlier on. "Are you insane?" she hissed, the moment the man was out of earshot. "What do you think you're doing, using the Force to cheat people out of money?"

He met her gaze without flinching. "I know exactly what I'm doing," he said levelly. "Firstly, 100 credits for a docking fee is daylight robbery. Secondly, I've seen what Czerka gets up to in the Outer Rim, and I'm not going to pay those core-slimes a single credit more than I absolutely have to. All right?"

"No, it is not all right," she snapped, ignoring the groans and exaggerated eye-rolls from her non-Jedi crewmates. "I have no love for Czerka, but Jedi are supposed to act fairly and honourably at all times. Using your powers for personal gain is both immoral and dangerous!"

"She speaks the truth, Padawan," agreed Juhani, her voice quiet but unexpectedly serious. "You should not abuse your powers in this way."

Jacob threw up his hands in exasperation. "You're suggesting that one tiny deviation from the Code is going to start me down the path to the Dark Side?"

"Yes, that is _exactly_ what I'm suggesting," the young woman retorted.

He held her gaze stubbornly, determined not to back down. She stared back at him with equal obstinacy, and the argument might have gone on for some time if it hadn't been for the sudden intrusion of a middle-aged Twi'lek woman. She was dressed in hunting gear and peering closely at Bastila, almost as if she recognised her.

"Excuse me, dear," she trilled, oblivious to the grim expression on the young Jedi's face. "But aren't you Helena's little girl?" Yes, I'm sure you are – I can see it in your eyes."

Bastila broke off from her silent duel with Jacob and regarded her coldly. "I am Bastila, yes," she replied, without enthusiasm. "I take it that you know my mother?"

"Oh yes, dear. I worked for her on an expedition, years ago." The woman beamed at her, as if she were a long-lost friend. "She showed me holos of you before you... well, before you left. Such a pretty little girl you were!"

The others were struggling to hide their smiles by now, and Bastila herself looked distinctly unimpressed. "Is there something I can do for you, miss?" she enquired, making no attempt to disguise her impatience. "As you can see, we are in quite a hurry."

"Oh, I didn't mean to take up your time," the woman said apologetically. "I just wanted to ask you if your mother's condition has improved since I last saw her."

The young Jedi's face turned several shades paler, and Jacob sensed her tense up a little. "My mother's condition?"

"Then... you don't know?" The Twi'lek shook her head in dismay. "Oh, dear. It's just that since you were here, I assumed she'd found you..."

Bastila took a deep breath. "No, I haven't seen my mother since I joined the Order. Is she here on Tatooine?" The woman nodded. "Did she say anything about my father?"

"No, dear. All she told me that she was very ill." The woman gestured in the direction of Anchorhead. "She should be in the cantina, if you want to see her..."

The entire group stared after her in astonishment as she walked off. "How many more long-lost relatives are we going to find on this planet?" muttered Canderous, shaking his head. The others raised their eyebrows and shrugged, equally bemused.

Jacob turned back to Bastila. "So are you going to look for her?" he asked softly, remembering how she had spoken about her mother back on Dantooine.

"Perhaps," she replied quietly. "Part of me would rather not see her at all. But if she is really ill..."

"You think she would lie about it?"

The young woman shrugged. "My mother used to lie about many things to get her way. But perhaps I am judging her too harshly." Before he could say anything else, she turned back to the others. "In any case, we have other matters to attend to first. Shall we proceed?"

They set off towards the gates, trying to stay as much in the shade as possible. Jacob remained in the rear by Bastila's side, wondering what she was thinking. He was surprised and a little concerned by her reaction to hearing about her mother's illness, and though he could sense little through their bond, he got the impression that her own feelings on the matter were somewhat confused. Did she really believe her mother was lying?

Still, he thought, at least it had briefly taken her mind off being angry with him. Perhaps he should be thankful for small mercies...


End file.
